


Naming of Parts

by FabulaRasa



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-09
Updated: 2010-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:31:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FabulaRasa/pseuds/FabulaRasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How did they decide what to call those things anyway?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naming of Parts

"I'm thinking. . ." Lieutenant Ford cocked his head, swallowing the last of his sandwich. "Okay, it's not too big, right? But fast, probably, right? So, what about the Dart? No no, the Flash! Lightning?"

McKay rolled his eyes. "Are you naming a spaceship, a superhero, or a 1973 Dodge? Please. It's a ship. It should be. . . something cosmic, yet dignified. Functional. Elegant."

"Now who's talking cars? That sounds like a Toyota ad to me. Nah, it should be something to do with space travel." Ford stretched his legs, contemplating, and McKay steadily chewed. In just a few minutes, they would have to get back to work checking the systems, or what they could deduce of them, on the mini-ship. For now, he wanted to relish his last Italian salami sandwich, especially since it was looking more and more like it would probably be quite literally his _last_ Italian salami sandwich.

"Starshooter. Oh, I got it! Star Express!"

McKay shook his head. "Who's the pilot, Andrew Lloyd Webber? Dial it down, please."

"Okay, well, then, what about Gate. . ." Ford cocked a head, considered the shape of the thing. "Gatepod."

"Too Steve Jobs. Also, pods are always what the evil faceless aliens arrive in."

"Gatehawk."

"Too Ridley Scott."

"Gatedriver."

"Sex toy. Why don't you just call it the Gatedong."

The lieutenant ducked his head in an abashed grin, looking so young McKay's heart gave a momentary twinge. This young Marine was so open-faced and easy to be around; quite surprising, considering the level of social skills he had come to expect from the average product of U.S. military training. Not that it would do to go getting attached to the grunts, most of whom were probably doomed anyway.

"All right then, Doctor, you come up with one."

"Well," he said, picking a bit of lettuce out of his teeth. "You're on the right track there, with Gate. It should be Gate-something."

"Gatezoomer!"

"That seems optimistic, given its shape. It is rather. . ." He tilted a critical head at the blunky oblong thing resting in the bay beside them. "Rectangular."

"Ah, man, I bet it can move. I can feel it." He grinned again, and McKay licked the slightly soured mayonnaise from his fingers to avoid seeing that expression. Ford had been on the planet when the Wraith had come; he had seen what lay in wait for them. And yet, clearly he had not yet done the math.

"You can feel it, can you? No, I think we ought to stick with the simple and functional. I vote. . ." he narrowed his eyes. "Gatelauncher."

"Gateshuttle."

They turned to each other at the same time. "Gateship," they said together. This time, McKay returned the grin, however lopsidedly, and Ford clapped him on the back.

"Gateship one," he said happily. "It's a _ship_."

"That goes through the gate."

They studied it for a few more minutes in the dim hangar. Its single sloping window seemed to wink at them in the circle of light, like a slow-witted but beneficent Cyclops. Perhaps, McKay thought. It was just possible. If they were mobile, if they had a way to strike back, to escape. . . it was just possible they might at least survive long enough in this galaxy to record their experiences, to send them back to Earth. That, at least, would be something.

"Bet that thing can break Mach 4," Ford was saying.

"Stop being so Milky Way. That 'thing' can break the speed of light, or we're wasting our time here."

"Speed of light? Really, you think? You mean, like hyperdrive?"

McKay sighed. "Everything you know about physics you learned in The Empire Strikes Back, didn't you, Lieutenant?"

Ford's smile was still happy, and he absently twirled the hat in his hands. "Yep. Best movie of all time. First time I ever saw it, my Granddad rented it for me for my thirteenth birthday. Gave me a light saber and everything. My Grandma about had a coronary when she came home and saw we'd been dueling over top of her antique cloisonné lamps."

My God, thought McKay, as he wiped his hands and crumpled his sandwich wrapper. His life rested in the hands of someone who had had to _rent_ Star Wars. "Come on, Lieutenant, back to the gateship. There are still three consoles we need to run diagnostics on before I'm comfortable giving a go for launch." He was pleased that he managed to toss off those last three words professionally, without bouncing like a teenager. "Come on, we're on a schedule here."

"Okay, Doc. Point me where you need me."

"You know," McKay mused, stopping at the entrance to the ship, one hand on the doorframe. "Gateship is fine for her professional name, but I can't help feeling she needs, well. . .something personal."

"Yeah," Ford agreed, running a hand alongside her. "She needs her own name, too. Like, you know, those World War Two bombers? With those Betty Boop pictures painted on them and stuff?"

McKay cocked a brow. "Somehow I think Major Sheppard might draw the line."

"Might confuse the hell out of those goddamned Wraith, though. I mean, can you picture it? They're incoming, _shoom shoom_, flying all around, and then they're like, what the hell is that! There's a naked woman on the side of that ship! And boom! They start crashing into each other, flames shooting everywhere, _ahhhh_. Could be the edge we need, man."

For a half-second McKay allowed himself to feel the pleasure of that unself-conscious, wholly ingenuous 'man,' to savor its unspoken camaraderie, the way the Marine had just drawn a circle about the two of them, a circle full of grandparents and light sabers and birthday parties, a circle no Marine had ever bothered to include him in. He ironed his pleasure into a smirk.

"Yes, well, if we're all done with middle school, perhaps we can pack up our Evel Knievel lunchboxes and get back to work here?"

Ford ducked his head, shy again, and slid under the nearest console. "Okay, Doctor, ready to go. What you need me to hand you first? The blinky thing or the flashy thing?"

* * *

It was only later that Ford saw it, as he was closing the hatch behind him and the Major and the other Marines. Major Sheppard was already at the pilot's chair, running his hand over the glimmering console as though it was talking to him, eyes gone a little unfocused. Ford saw it, and abruptly stopped, unsure if his eyes were playing tricks on him, like they had on Teyla's planet before the Wraith came.

"Lieutenant Ford? You wanna close us up there?" Sheppard said, and Ford hastily nodded.

"Yes sir. Closing up." He pulled the hatch door closed with a soft swoosh, just smiling for a minute, shaking his head. It wasn't his eyes. It was there. There, just where the hatch slid into its grooved frame, right overhead, though only visible to the one standing directly beneath it. In careful script, voluptuous cursive swirl of black paint, four little letters.

_Leia._

"All right, boys, get ready to go." He pushed past the Marines huddled in the back and still grinning, slid into the co-pilot's chair with a glance at Sheppard. "Gateship one ready to go."


End file.
